


Day Forty-Seven

by Marchling



Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Hurt Matt Murdock, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Matt Murdock Needs a Hug, Miscommunication, Post-Season/Series 01, Sensory Overload, sensory issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-09-28 17:29:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marchling/pseuds/Marchling
Summary: “Stop it with the heartbeat thing, Matt. Seriously, it’s creepy. And invasive. And disrespectful.”He wasn’t ever trying to be creepy about it. It wasn’t something he even paid much attention to anymore. He was always hyper-aware of Foggy’s heartbeat. He used it to ground himself, to block out the rest of the input he got and keep himself from being overwhelmed. Finding ways to filter out all the input his senses bombarded him with was vital to his sanity, to his ability to function and to any chance of sleep he had.It helped, Foggy helped, even when he didn’t know it.But now he did know and he didn’t like it. He wanted Matt to stop, so that was what he would try to do. Things were so tenuous between them, Matt knew from the way Foggy’s voice sounded when he said it that if Matt didn’t stop it would drive the rift between them impossibly and maybe even irrevocably deeper. He loved Foggy too much to let that happen – he loved Foggy too much in general.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello All! This story is set after Season 1 and doesn't take into account anything that happens after that. I think my brain won't let me write for Season 2 or 3. It's just too sad!

**_Day One_ **

 

_“Stop it with the heartbeat thing, Matt. Seriously, it’s creepy. And invasive. And disrespectful.”_

He wasn’t ever trying to be creepy about it. It wasn’t something he even paid much attention to anymore. He was always hyper-aware of Foggy’s heartbeat. He used it to ground himself, to block out the rest of the input he got and keep himself from being overwhelmed. It was an old trick of Stick’s, to focus so hard on one thing that everything else became background noise. _There_ but not demanding his attention. Finding ways to filter out all the input his senses bombarded him with was vital to his sanity, to his ability to function and to any chance of sleep he had.

It helped, _Foggy_ helped, even when he didn’t know it.

But now he did know and he didn’t like it. He wanted Matt to stop, so that was what he would try to do. Things were so tenuous between them, Matt knew from the way Foggy’s voice sounded when he said it that if Matt didn’t stop it would drive the rift between them impossibly and maybe even irrevocably deeper. He loved Foggy too much to let that happen – he loved Foggy too much in general.

It would be hard, a big adjustment because he had been doing it for so long that he didn’t need to put any thought to tuning into Foggy’s heart, but the tentative forgiveness he had earned so far was worth a lot more to Matt than a little discomfort on his end.

So he would try, he would try as hard as he could. Foggy’s friendship meant everything to him, even if it made his heart twist a little with the possibility of more that would never come true. He wouldn’t lose what he _could_ have of Foggy to his own stupid, long ago mistake in becoming so dependent on his heartbeat.

He could do this.

 

**_Day Four_ **

 

Not focusing on Foggy was fairly easy, when he put his mind to it. It was when he _wasn’t_ putting his mind to it that he was having the problems. He had pretty much trained his body to use Foggy as a center point for all of his senses, so the minute he stopped putting effort into it, he went back to listening to Foggy’s heart for twenty minutes before abruptly realizing why he was suddenly getting more work done than he had before.

It hadn’t made for very productive days yet.

Add in to that his throbbing bruises from his fight with Fisk keeping him just a degree too uncomfortable to really power through and Matt wasn’t even sure why Foggy and Karen were putting up with him in the office. He and Foggy were tense, for all that his friend had given his blessing to Matt going after Fisk that night. They were tentatively reconciled but Matt knew the slightest thing could ruin what they were trying to build back up.

He had been trying to use the pain he was in as his focus but he was wary of letting that become a habit. He didn’t _look_ to get hurt when he was out as the Devil but if he started needing it to replace focusing on Foggy then things were going to get risky fast.

Truthfully, he hadn’t figured out how he was going to replace Foggy’s heartbeat. He remembered the vicious headaches and sensory overloads that had slowly tapered off by the time they were in their second year at school together and he wasn’t eager to let that back into his life. He had to figure something out, though, because he was already failing at what he had to do.

There wasn’t any room for error. If Foggy got the slightest hint that Matt wasn’t respecting his wishes he would be angry and possibly out the door. Losing Foggy was more than Matt could bear. He had to do better.

He _would_ do better.

 

**_Day Six_ **

 

“Matt, you’re freaking brilliant!”

Matt laughed, the sound off to his own ears but luckily Foggy was so pleased with the loophole he had found their client he didn’t realize that Matt was so tense and relieved and unwilling to show it that he was afraid he’d temporarily forgotten how to properly laugh. “I don’t think researching until my fingers fall asleep is brilliance, but okay.”

“No, seriously, this is a novel way to apply the precedent. I never would have thought of it.” Foggy praised. His voice was warmer than it had been in so long and if Matt was feeling particularly masochistic he could pretend it even sounded loving.

It had taken him six minutes to explain what he had found and pitch his idea to Foggy. They were probably up to seven minutes of continuous conversation and it was the longest they had had in over a week. He could practically feel Karen’s smile from the doorway she was standing in. Apparently, with the right incentive, Foggy could stand to be near Matt for a decent chunk of time again. Everything he was trying to do to repair them was _working._

Saying any of those thoughts, those assumptions about any forgiveness he had earned, was forbidden. “Well, let’s hope the judge buys it.” He said simply.

Foggy laughed again and the sound of it made all of the effort Matt had been putting into _not_ focusing on him worth it.

 

**_Day Nine_ **

 

_Just a couple of hours, please, just a couple of hours._

Matt was tired in that amped up way that meant he wasn’t going to get the sleep he wanted and he knew it. Didn’t mean he wasn’t going to gamely lay in bed and wish for it though. He was operating on two hours from the night before and only about three the night before that. He could make do with less, of course, he just had to get back into the habit of it.

He had been hoping that the patrol he’d gone on earlier would have helped the problem. There had been certainly enough to do. Fisk’s incarceration had left a power vacuum in Hell’s Kitchen that meant every small time player was trying to level up. It made Matt’s work even harder, so he had been hoping for a little rest in repayment. It didn’t seem to be working out but it _was_ giving him plenty to worry about while he laid awake.

He had also hoped that putting so much effort into focus during the day would tire his brain out enough to let him sleep but it was sort of the opposite effect. His senses weren’t getting a break and his focus was shot by the time he was supposed to sleep so every little sound seemed to get through his filters. Of course, for him, every little sound included the couple having sex in the building to the right of his, the baby crying two floors down and the snoring from everyone in between. He could hear mice scurrying between walls and the flow of air from every vent in every apartment on the floor. All of it seemed so much louder than it normally did and the sound of his own skin dragging against the silk underneath him as he tossed and turned wasn’t helping anything either.

Matt fumbled for his phone to tell him the time and sighed.

_If I fall asleep right now I can get an hour and a half of rest. That’s enough._

 

**_Day Thirteen_ **

 

Karen had finished her breakfast – a very reasonable choice of French toast with blueberry syrup – over two hours ago and Matt was still trying to discreetly breathe through his mouth. _Tasting_ the fried egg soaked bread and overly sweet fake syrup was slightly preferable to _smelling_ it. It was overpowering every other scent in the room, so Matt was left with nothing to latch onto.

He was about to puke.

Luckily, he’d skipped breakfast that morning in favor of chasing a last twenty minutes of dozing, so there wasn’t much risk of losing his stomach in front of his friends. He had quietly excused himself to dry heave and then suck in “fresher” air through the bathroom window, but that had been twice already and if he did it again Foggy would know something was up.

When Karen or Foggy brought in foods with smells that didn’t agree with him – most foods – he usually doubled down on his focus on Foggy and expanded his attention to all the smells that made up Foggy’s own scent. Not as effective as listening to his heartbeat but anything helped. It had become an even more soothing strategy after he and Foggy had moved out of their shared place and into apartments of their own. Foggy’s smell had become a home he missed.

Not today though.

If Foggy found Matt focusing on his heartbeat invasive, he would probably find the smell thing to be even more of a problem.

He quietly checked the time and sighed when he realized they were close to lunch and Foggy and Karen would be bringing new food in to mix terribly with the smell of breakfast. He would skip it, of course, if he wanted to keep his dry heaving, well, _dry_.

He’d just have to wait and try for dinner.

 

**_Day Seventeen_ **

 

It had steadily been building all day.

What he wanted more than anything was just to sleep and be able to _not think_ and _not focus_ and maybe he’d be able to get rid of the headache before it turned into a full blown migraine. His head pounded so badly he had been forced to start contemplating not going out that night, which wasn’t what he wanted at all.

_You knew this would happen, power through it._

He pulled his fingers away from his Braille display and rubbed his temples.

“Hey Matt, come here!” Foggy called him with more excitement in his voice than he’d had for Matt in what felt like forever.

_Don’t get excited, Foggy’s not calling because he wants to joke around, he’s probably just found what we need in those financial reports._

_Although, if he had found something, then they could all call it a night and go home, so a little excitement was probably okay._

Matt stood up and then froze to give himself a second to orient around the throbbing behind his eyes. He stepped around his desk and headed for his office door.

And walked smack into the doorframe.

He cursed under his breath and took a step back, his shoulder and the side of his leg instantly smarting.

“Whoa, Matt, are you okay?” Karen called.

“Did you just walk into the doorframe?” Foggy asked.

Both of them had stood up and were walking towards him.

_Shrug it off and laugh or you’ll worry them. Now that Foggy knows about everything, he’ll know something’s wrong._

Matt straightened up and plastered a bewildered smile on his face, “Was the door always there? I could have sworn it was five inches to the left.”

Karen was hovering to his side, hand outstretched but not reaching for him. She was as unsure of what to do about this as he was. “Oh my god, Matt.”  She laughed a little and it sounded forced, “That sounded painful, are you okay?”

He could feel Foggy’s scrutiny but he could also sense that Foggy’s hands _weren’t_ reaching out for him. He wasn’t even restraining himself from it like Karen. Matt rubbed his shoulder and gave them a smile meant to look embarrassed. Not a hard sell, he _was_ embarrassed. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something so stupid. Before Stick definitely, and oh, if the old bastard could have ‘seen’ that…

“I’m okay.” Matt said and he dropped his arm back to his side. He didn’t want to let on how much that had hurt. “Mostly embarrassed.”

“Are you sure, buddy?” Foggy asked, the real concern in his voice took the sting out of how he wasn’t interested in touching Matt. He didn’t sound suspicious but then Matt couldn’t really be sure if he was buying it.

He nodded, “I’m sure. What were going to show me?”

There was a pause, like Foggy didn’t know whether to let it go or not. A few seconds after the silence had dragged noticeably, he seemed to make his choice, “Wait ‘til I read you this choice line in Edwards’ statement.” Foggy answered, victory easing down his worry, “It’ll make getting up and walking into a doorframe worth it.”

Almost nothing was worth the shame of walking into a wall but he followed behind Foggy and smiled as his friend explained his discovery as though he wasn’t seething in anger about his own failings.

It was only a headache; it shouldn’t have messed with him like that. Shouldn’t but did and Matt didn’t know how to fix it.

 

**_Day Nineteen_ **

 

“Come on, Matt, don’t think I didn’t see you go for the coffee-only breakfast.” Foggy had coaxed, “Let’s go to lunch and get some real human food. My treat.”

By hour twenty-seven of his headache – at what point could he start to call it a migraine? – food was the last thing Matt wanted. Especially food with Foggy because then he had to put in even more effort so as to not focus in on his heartbeat. But Foggy had offered and so Matt had been powerless to say no.

Now he was in a small deli with Foggy trying desperately to make a noticeable dent in a bowl of chicken noodle that had sounded safe enough but was instead already turning his finicky stomach. The silence they sat in, only broken by occasional comments from Foggy about innocuous things like the weather or his sisters or a case, only made it worse

“What’s wrong?” Foggy sighed finally. He dropped his fork back down on the plate with a sharp ping of metal against ceramic that nearly made Matt wince. “Cook not wash their hands?”

Matt took another spoonful and did his best not to make a face, “No, it’s good.”

“So good you’ve had about a quarter of it in the twenty minutes we’ve been here.” Foggy pointed out.

He gave Foggy an apologetic smile, “Not super hungry today.”

The spike in Foggy’s heart rate broke through his deliberate attempts to ignore anything to do with Foggy’s body. It was a fight to keep the confused frown off his face. What was the problem?

Foggy’s voice dropped lower, “You’re not hurt, right?”

“No,” Matt answered semi-truthfully. He had a cut in his side that Claire had stitched last night and his shoulder still ached from being jammed into his office wall. There some bruises on his back that Claire had declared ‘almost artistic’ in their scope and color range. None of that, though, was wrecking his appetite. It wasn’t a lie so much as omitting irrelevant information.

“Are you sure?” Foggy pressed. Matt deserved the lack of trust there so he couldn’t mind it.

Matt smiled at him, “I’m okay, Foggy. I’ll take this to go and finish it for dinner. It really is good, I like this place.”

Foggy stared at him a moment longer, clearly unsure as to whether to believe him. So Matt took a sip and made an exaggerated _mmm_ noise that made Foggy laugh and back off.

_Crisis averted._

 

**_Day Twenty_ **

 

_Claire’s going to kill me._

Matt put pressure on the wound in his arm and fumbled for his burner phone to call her. Stitches two nights out of three were going to earn him a lecture that would make his ears burn but he knew without a doubt that he needed them and that his focus was shot to hell so doing it himself was not an option.

_Tomorrow night: Benadryl and no patrolling._

He needed sleep and rest in ways he couldn’t even articulate. He hated admitting it but with his focus shot all day he needed to give his brain a chance to rest before he ended up with something way worse than a slashed arm.

He grit his teeth and made the call.

_“You have got to be kidding me, Murdock.”_

 

**_Day Twenty-Four_ **

 

“She deserves to know! I can’t believe that after everything we went through with Fisk you still don’t trust her!” Foggy hissed at him. Matt could hear the blood pumping through his veins, how the anger made Foggy’s heart beat so loudly he wouldn’t have been surprised if Foggy could hear it himself.

Karen had just left the office to grab lunch but not before reading them an article about Daredevil aloud and praising the hell out of him after. Foggy had said little, Matt even less. The second she was out of hearing range, Foggy had barged into his office to have the same fight again.

Matt wished there was some way to avoid having it that didn’t involve giving in and putting Karen’s life at risk. He didn’t want Foggy angry with him and he hated that this was one argument he couldn’t give in on. “It’s got nothing to do with trust and you know it, Foggy.” He countered.

Foggy snorted bitterly, “Yeah, it does. You don’t trust anyone.” He spit out the accusation like it physically hurt him.

How could Foggy think that? He was probably the _only_ person Matt had really, truly trusted since his father. “I trust you!” He sputtered.

“Apparently not,” Foggy said, bitterness dripping from his voice, “Considering I only know because I found you dying on the ground.”

Matt turned his head away, still angry with himself about that night. He didn’t know what he would have done otherwise, if he could have kept lying to Foggy about what he was doing at night he wanted to believe that he wouldn’t have, but he couldn’t be sure. No matter what though, if he could have gone back to his past self and told him how Foggy had found out, he would have made sure it happened some other way. Almost _any_ other way.

“I said I was sorry for it. I didn’t mean for you to find out like that.” Matt said quietly.

Foggy’s heart was still beating so loudly, the rhythm pounding out his obvious feelings of betrayal, “You didn’t mean for me to find out at all.”

Matt could deny it but that would only make Foggy angrier about the lies. He wouldn’t believe him. Maybe it was time to try to say something else? “I’ve nearly told you a hundred times, especially before the Daredevil thing started.” Matt admitted, “It never felt right. I was always too afraid. _I’m sorry._ ” He repeated. It felt like the thousandth time but he knew most of his apologies to Foggy were silent and always had been.

“Jesus, Matt, afraid of what?” Foggy scoffed. He didn’t understand, even though the answer was so obvious to Matt.

_This_ , Matt wanted to say. _What we’re doing now, this weird distance in our relationship, losing you the only way I get to have you, this exact fight, I was terrified of all of it._

Instead, he stayed silent. Saying the truth opened him up for even worse conversations.

Foggy huffed out an annoyed breath and started pacing in front of him, “So if you regret how I found out, why can’t we make sure Karen doesn’t get the same treatment?”

Foggy made it sound so reasonable, so _right_ , to tell Karen, as if it could ever be that easy. “Because it’s safer for her not to know.” Matt reminded earnestly. “I put you both in enough danger as it is. Just being around Matt Murdock is dangerous for her. Why make it worse?”

“We should let her decide.” Foggy said, “It’s worse not to let her make the choice herself. I’ve decided, danger or no, to stay. She should get the same chance.”

Matt was struck silent by the statement. Both that Foggy was choosing to stay and that he sounded so final about it.

Without meaning to, he tuned into Foggy’s steady, if angry, heartbeat and heard the truth. “You… you really mean that.” He said almost silently.

Foggy reared back as though he’d be struck, “Did you just do the lie detector thing on me?”

Matt froze, horrified that he had made such a mistake. He knew the look on his face would only make him guiltier in Foggy’s eyes. _Shit, shit, shit…_ “I, um, I’m really sorry. You surprised me, I didn’t mean to.” Matt rushed to say.

Foggy’s anger was palpable, “And again, you just didn’t mean to say that and let on that you’re still doing your creepy heartbeat thing. Damn it, Matt, this isn’t so much to ask, is it? Stop lying to me.”

“I’m trying, really.” Matt stammered, “It’s just a habit and I’m breaking it but you surprised me and I didn’t mean to.”

But Foggy was already walking out of his office and slamming the door to his own. Once Matt was sure he was alone, his face crumbled. Why couldn’t he get this right? Why couldn’t he get _any_ of this right?

_Do better, Murdock, or it won’t just be your office he walks out of._

 


	2. Chapter Two

**_Day Twenty-Eight_ **

 

“You realize that you should really be eating _more_ in response to all this vigilantism, right?”

Matt tilted his head to the side consideringly, “Where did that come from?”

Claire continued like he hadn’t spoken, “More protein, definitely. You need to start looking into the typical diet for athletes at the very least. Research diets specific to gymnasts or MMA fighters, people like that.”

Her hands were light over his side, checking ribs and actually _removing_ some stitches. He had some creaking in his chest that he had mentioned to her so now of course she wanted to be sure. He had no fresh lacerations, which meant that she was supposed to be happy. Yet here he was, getting some new lecture about eating habits? “And again, what brought this on?”

“ _What brought this on_?” Claire repeated, “Maybe you can’t see yourself, but I can. You’ve lost weight.”

That wasn’t what he thought she was going to say. He hadn’t noticed anything different about himself but then it wasn’t so shocking considering how hard his headaches had been making eating lately. He was a little surprised that he hadn’t gotten any grief about it from Foggy. His friend had always been like a mother hen about any weight loss on Matt’s part in the past, especially in those first few months after Elektra.

Although, maybe that lunch at the deli before their fight had sort of been about that, now that he thought about it.

“I noticed a little weight loss like a month ago, but I thought it was the stress from Fisk and your body getting used to this new… _lifestyle choice_ ,” Claire continued, “But this is getting ridiculous, Matt.”

He wasn’t sure what to say to that. Her heartbeat remained steady so he knew she wasn’t wildly alarmed by it. Add in that his clothes still fit okay and he knew that it wasn’t a huge problem. He didn’t particularly want to get into the nitty gritty of the issue but he owed her some level of truth. “I’ve been having some migraines lately that make eating kind of tough sometimes. It’s happened before, it’ll get better.”

Claire made a noise that suggested she wasn’t very impressed by that answer but she stopped talking about it so Matt figured he was in the clear for a little while.

 

**_Day Thirty_ **

 

Waking up felt like being punched.

Matt came alive with a gasp, sound hitting him with such force it felt like a blow to his over sensitized skin. He laid in his bed panting, trying to find his own thoughts outside the shouting of the world around him.

That might be what he hated most about any sensory overload he had ever experienced, the complete inability to just _think_. Instead he was bombarded on all sides, from what felt like every person in a mile radius around him. His own mind was gone. He was merely the sensations and the pain and the other people.

Through it all, through the small eternity that his body rebelled against his control, Matt trembled and tried to remember to keep breathing. That was what he was reduced down into after only a month learning to rely on himself again. Stick would be disgusted, _he_ was disgusted.

How had he let himself come to rely on Foggy so much? He had let his best friend become the shield that he hid behind, which was fine while Foggy was there because it made Matt stronger and more able to put his focus into things that mattered, but Stick had warned him about relying on people too much and he was right. Fifteen years later and Matt could say, with bile coming up his throat, that Stick was right. Foggy didn’t want him to wrap his senses around him anymore and here he was, writhing in bed because he had gotten lax on Stick’s rigorous sensory training.

_Weak_.

_Pathetic_.

When Matt finally managed to push the world back out, it was nearly eleven in the morning and he had six missed calls from Karen and Foggy.

He laid in bed dazed for another half an hour before he hauled himself out, showered, dressed and went to work. Walking to the office was an exercise in control, each sharp sound almost frightening him. Anything that had the potential to send him back into that state was a risk. He hadn’t had an overload like that since he was a teenager. Even the few he had just after meeting Foggy were only half as bad.

He shut the door to the office softly but quickly, eager to put another barrier between him and the sounds outside. Karen was sitting at her desk, blessedly on the phone talking softly to someone. It meant that she wouldn’t say anything to him, especially if he shut himself into his office. Foggy was in his own space, typing away.

Matt slid down into his chair with an exhausted sigh.

Then he heard Foggy stand and he sighed again. He wasn’t ready for speech. He wasn’t ready for anything louder than the sound of his fingertips dragging over Braille.

“Are you hurt?” Foggy asked immediately. He shut Matt’s door behind him with more force than Matt wanted.

Matt didn’t dare shake his head, the mere thought made his brain ache. “No,” He said instead, “I’m okay. I’m sorry.”

He felt like all he ever did anymore was apologize to Foggy. Foggy deserved more. He deserved someone even half as good as he was but instead he got flawed and weak Matt Murdock. Just another reason why Matt would never take any step to deepen their relationship. Foggy certainly deserved a better best friend but he absolutely deserved a better romantic partner than Matt could ever be.

A long moment of silence greeted yet another of his worthless apologies and Matt wished he knew what Foggy was thinking.

“Are you sure?” Foggy asked finally, something different in his voice.

“I am.” Matt answered.

Another long pause.

“This is the part where you explain why you ignored my calls. I was about to leave here and go find you, I thought I was going to find you dying in your apartment again.” Foggy bit out. His voice was quiet in deference to Karen but it still felt like he was shouting.

Matt didn’t know what to say. At that moment, he had no clever or even not so clever lies to sell Foggy and he certainly couldn’t tell him the truth. _Sorry, Foggy, ignoring your heartbeat is a little harder than I let on and now I’m in a level of hell I haven’t enjoyed since my pre-Stick years. Gimme another month, please._

No chance in hell he would say such a thing.

“I wasn’t ignoring your calls. I just didn’t hear them.” Matt said, then winced.

Foggy scoffed, “Thank you for at least acknowledging how stupid a lie that was.”

It wasn’t a lie. Matt hadn’t heard his phone saying Foggy’s name because he was too busy trying to separate his own thoughts out from twelve apartment buildings worth of people’s words.

“So that’s all I’m getting, then?” Foggy continued, “You waltz in half a day late for no reason with no explanation and I’m supposed to be cool with that?”

“I’m sorry, Foggy.” Matt repeated.

“Yeah, I’m sure you are.” Foggy shot back. He yanked the door to Matt’s office open and closed it angrily on his way out.

 

**_Day Thirty-Three_ **

 

Getting out of bed to go to the office had been an exercise in commitment. If he hadn’t fought with Foggy earlier in the week, he would have skipped it and tried to actually fall asleep, but Foggy had only just started talking to him about anything besides cases and Matt didn’t want to mess up again, especially just to laze around his apartment probably _not_ falling asleep.

He hadn’t slept in two days, though, so Foggy’s anger or not… it had been hard.

If the two days of no sleep had been the start of it, he would have barely noticed. Two days wasn’t long at all but he was down to only a few hours a night at best and had been for weeks.

He was just lucky Foggy and Karen hadn’t said anything about the dark circles under his eyes that Claire had already called him out for.

His phone told him it was only ten in the morning but it felt like it should have been nearly time to call it quits for the day.

Foggy’s voice drifted out of his office, drowning out the argument in the office below them. He was on some sort of phone call, probably to one of their few clients by the sound of it. Matt wasn’t putting much effort into listening, not with how slow he was reading the documents Karen had left for him that morning. Thirteen year old Matt could have read through it twice in the two hours it had taken him so far and he wasn’t even two thirds done yet.

His fingers had stopped moving.

Matt swore under his breath and started reading again.

His focus stayed on the document for about two more pages before another yawn interrupted. He would have to go extra hard on patrol that night, just to tire himself out enough for rest. It was worth a try.

His eyes were closed.

Even if it didn’t make any difference to him he still kept them open but…

His head leaned forward until his face was pressed against the arm he curled up under it.

_Get up, get up before Foggy…_

_Foggy was excited, his heartbeat was racing. He must have found something for the case._

_Just a second…_

_…_

_Get up!_

Matt jolted back up with a grunt. Quickly, he fumbled for his phone and prayed he’d only been down a few minutes.

_12:23_

With a groan, he dragged his hand down his face and thanked God that he’d fallen asleep with his arm under his face instead of his document. The last thing he wanted was the details of _Madison vs The State of New York_ pressed into his cheek. Nothing said _I’m working hard!_ quite like telltale signs of a nap.

Foggy was still working in his office, his heartbeat steady, so he probably hadn’t noticed Matt sleeping.

Matt clenched his jaw and leaned back in the chair. He had done it again. The minute his guard went down, his focus went back to Foggy. 

_Stop fucking up, Murdock._

 

**_Day Thirty-Five_ **

 

“Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Vincent, Karen will see you out while my partner and I start talking strategy.” Foggy said with a smile so big even Matt could sense it.

Karen jumped up and started making encouraging small talk with their client – a paying one, wonder of wonders – as she led the other woman out of their little conference room and to the door.

They were a week away from trial and Matt was feeling good about the case. He could tell Foggy was too, just by the lack of tension in the office. Money wasn’t everything but it did go a long way in easing stress.

The second the door closed behind the two women Foggy turned towards Matt and punched the air, “We’ve got this in the bag!”

Matt gave him a small smile, “I think so too but let’s not get cocky.”

“Of course not, Spoilsport,” Foggy teased good-naturedly, “We’ll do everything right leading up to the trial but that doesn’t mean I don’t get to be excited about an impending paycheck, for us _and_ Mrs. Vincent.”

“We’ve still got to finish up finding some more precedents to use.” Matt pointed out as Karen came back into the room.

She sat down opposite them, “Don’t you guys have like seven you’re ready to present?”

“In the words of Matthew Murdock, why have seven when you can stay up all night for a week and present twelve?” Foggy said.

Matt took a gamble and shot Foggy a chiding look, “I’m not saying we should forgo sleep but twelve is better than seven.”

Foggy laughed and Matt relaxed, glad they were back to a place where Matt could tease back a little. He was especially glad they were back to a place where it actually felt like Foggy was teasing him as opposed to making pointed attacks.

“All right, all right,” Foggy held out his hands, “We’ve got a couple of hours left, why don’t we see what we can get done before we all go to bed at a reasonable hour?”

“How responsible, Mr. Nelson.” Karen said. She stood up, “I’ll go grab the latest documents. Matt, did I print yours or did you?”

She was referencing her habit of writing titles on the documents she printed him so she could organize them later. If Matt printed things for himself then he didn’t bother, mostly because his handwriting was so awful it rendered the effort worthless, which meant that he had to be responsible for getting them where they needed to be. Thinking for a moment, he could remember finding a few things he wanted to present to Foggy that afternoon and printing them. That meant that Karen couldn’t get them for him unless they were the only things on his desk and while his wasn’t the hellhole that Foggy’s was, it still wasn’t pristine.

“I did, I’ll grab them.” He said as he pushed his chair back to stand, “Foggy, there was one I really… oh…”

The second he was standing, he felt the whole room drop out from under him. He stumbled, lightheaded and dizzy. A strong hand grabbed his elbow and half-eased him back into his chair, half-directed his fall.

_“Matty?”_

Foggy sounded underwater and two buildings away. Reflexively, he blinked a few times even though that didn’t do anything. He shook his head a little too, trying to clear the lightheadedness. It was an immediate mistake, the rushing sensation in his head intensified and drowned out all other sound.

He dropped his chin down against his chest and tried to deep breathe through it.

“…my god, is he okay? Matt are you okay?” Karen’s voice slowly came into focus.

“Give him a minute.” Foggy said quietly. His hands were still bracketing Matt’s arms and keeping him from listing to the side. He didn’t sound angry, luckily. Just a little concerned. Matt tried not to think about how good it felt to have Foggy touch him again.

“I’m okay.” Matt mumbled. He took a deep breath and tilted his head back up so he was more or less looking in their direction. “Sorry, stood up too fast.”

Karen hovered beside him, “Jeez, that was out of nowhere!”

Still breathing deeply, Matt could only offer up another, “Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault!” Karen protested, “Did you eat lunch?”

He knew better than to shake his head, “No, wasn’t hungry.” The truth was he hadn’t eaten breakfast either and he was damned lucky she didn’t know him well enough to ask.

“Let me get you something.” Karen said and she practically ran from the room.

Foggy leaned in the second she was gone, “Did something happen last night?” If all Matt ever said to Foggy anymore was _sorry_ then all Foggy ever said to him was some variation of _are you hurt_. He wondered if Foggy felt the same way.

“No,” Matt answered, mostly truthfully. Again, he held back the irrelevant information. He had all sorts of old and new wounds and bruises on his body, but that wasn’t why he’d almost passed out like some awkwardly growing teenager. He really had just stood up too fast.

“No head wounds you neglected to mention?” Foggy pressed.

“I just stood up too quick, Foggy.”

Karen was back in a second, “I found some saltines, these should be perfect.” She said and handed him a bundle of crackers wrapped up in a paper towel. Foggy let his arms go, leaving the skin under his shirt feeling instantly too cold.

Matt wasn’t so sure he was hungry but he wasn’t going to make them worry more by refusing. Besides, he wasn’t so stupid as to not be aware that it wasn’t _just_ standing up too quickly. He should have eaten an apple or something to keep his body from rebelling like it had. He nibbled on a cracker, waiting to see how his stomach would respond. “Thank you, Karen.”

“You’re welcome. Do you want some water?” She asked, still in a hovering stance to his side.

Matt worked his way through a few more crackers, fending off Karen’s well-meaning fussing and his own blush. Foggy stayed close but he didn’t act like he normally would if Matt had nearly passed out in front of him. He tried not to let it bother him that Foggy was being so hands-off but it sort of did.

_Things will get back to normal soon, just keep working on it._

 

**_Day Thirty-Six_ **

 

“When the opposing side gets our counter-suit, they’re going to shit themselves.” Foggy crowed excitedly.

Matt couldn’t lie, he was a little excited himself. The owner of the diner they were representing had been dealing with entirely too much slander prior to Nelson and Murdock stepping in. Now, not only did the other side have to put in actual legal work to make their case, they were going to pay for all the underhanded tactics they had been engaging in before. There was something wonderful about the thought of the oily-voiced (and smelling, honestly) jerk they were working opposite getting his weekend in the Hamptons ruined. He had spent half of their mediation meeting talking about it, as if the two younger, poorer lawyers were supposed to be afraid of that particular sign of opulence. That they had picked the day before his big plans to file their suit was total chance.

Really.

“I just hope the Marshall serves his clients before he gets out of town.” Matt said with his own smile. He wasn’t hopping around like Foggy, but he was still pretty damn pleased. He tapped his way down the street and tried to keep himself absorbed in the conversation as opposed to the fifty other conversations around him. Maybe it was Foggy’s contagious mood but he wasn’t even having that hard a time of it. His friend might not offer his arm anymore but Matt was learning to do without it.

His smile dimmed ever so slightly. He was learning to do without it but he hadn’t learned not to miss it.

He’d get there.

“Nah, did you see how everyone in that office reacted? He must be hated throughout the state of New York. I bet they’ll rush it right over.” Foggy laughed.

Matt’s smile recovered, “We should stop and get something to celebrate.”

“Drinks?” Foggy asked, “I’m not unwilling but it is like an hour after lunch.”

He shook his head, “Not drinks. I was thinking something to bring back to the office for Karen too, cake or - ”

Before he could finish the sentence, three things happened simultaneously.

One, Foggy shouted his name.

Two, a car blared its horn.

Three, two different hands yanked him backwards.

“Whoa, buddy!” An older man said. He let Matt’s arm go and laughed, as though a blind guy being stupid enough to nearly walk into oncoming traffic was no big deal. “You should really hold on to your friend, be a big help.”

Matt tried to catch his breath without panting or looking like he was thrown off track. “I, um… Thank you.”

“No problem, kid.” The man said.

Foggy’s arm was still clamped tightly around Matt’s bicep and though he didn’t want to, Matt could hear his heart pounding. Without a word, Foggy dragged him around the corner and into a little side street.

“Foggy, I’m sorry.” Matt protested. Foggy had never really yanked him before, not even in the early days of their friendship when he thought that leading Matt involved _him_ holding onto Matt and gently tugging. Matt stumbled a little as Foggy pulled him and he sincerely hoped that none of the people that had just witnessed his near-collision on the street corner were still watching.

“What the fuck was that?” Foggy hissed as soon as they were around the corner.

Matt gripped his cane so hard he could hear his bones creak. “I wasn’t paying attention. I’m sorry.”

“You’re _sorry_? You almost walked in front of a truck. A goddamned truck, Matt!” Foggy said. “Aren’t you supposed to like, smell the atoms of it or something?”

Normally Matt had to resist the urge to sigh at Foggy’s complete unwillingness to make his senses sound anything less than ridiculous but his near run in with a truck ( _another truck, as if the first time had gone really well for him)_ had left him shaky and more than a little freaked out. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

“What?” Foggy asked incredulously.

“I have to be focusing, Foggy. I can’t just get that much input, process all of it and use the important parts to make a map for myself every minute of the day!” He said, frustrated. “I was paying attention to talking and walking.”

“You’ve never had that problem before!” Foggy said, a little thoughtlessly. Apparently Foggy thought so to because he shut up almost immediately. Matt heard him draw in tense, angry breaths though his nose.

It had never been a problem before because Foggy had always guided him. Sure, he didn’t _strictly_ need it but it helped. It helped a lot more than he’d thought, if today was any indication. Add in how sapped his focus was in the last month and it wasn’t really surprising that it had happened. Matt tried to tell himself that it wasn’t a big deal but he knew it was. He knew he could have been seriously hurt or even killed because he wasn’t being smart enough.

Without another word, Foggy grabbed Matt’s hand and shoved it towards the elbow he usually held. Matt grabbed on reflexively and Foggy started leading him back to the intersection. He’d missed Foggy’s help but he didn’t want it back just because he’d fucked up.

“You don’t have to…” Matt started.

“Apparently, I do.” Foggy snapped back.

 

**_Day Thirty-Nine_ **

 

“Did you get hit, Matt?” Karen asked point blank.

Her hand was gentle around the swollen skin surrounding his eye. Her cool fingers felt good and luckily she knew better than to use any pressure. She had already told him that his eye was a dark purple and looked awful.

Foggy stood in the doorway of his office, watching silently.

There was judgment in his stare even if Matt couldn’t see it.

“I was trying to help one of the women in my building get up the stairs with a bunch of stuff in her hands but we messed each other up and fell. I got an elbow in the eye on the way down.” Matt explained.

It was a lie of course.

The truth was that he’d gotten dizzy in the middle of his fight last night for no reason at all ( _Lying to yourself now, Murdock?)_ and he’d gotten one of his own clubs turned against him. He was lucky a black eye was the worst of it; his mask had saved him a broken orbital bone. He was disgusted with himself, for more than just the fight.

Karen made the sympathetic sounds that Matt expected and Foggy stayed silent.

It was getting worse, not better.

How much longer was he going to have to deal with this?

How much longer _could_ he?

 

**_Day Forty-Three_ **

 

Matt should have known what Foggy was planning the second he started loudly complaining that he missed the drunken noodles from a restaurant that was generally too pricey for them. It was one of Matt’s favorites in the city and even he couldn’t justify the money spent more than a couple of times a year. Foggy had begged Karen to go get them some and had even offered up his card to pay for it. She had gone gladly, with a warning she probably wouldn’t be back for a long while depending on the line.

She wasn’t even out of the building before Foggy had sat down in his office, a jumble of nerves.

“What’s wrong?” Matt asked tiredly. Foggy froze, “I’m not listening to your heartbeat, I can hear you fidget.” His muscles relaxed only minutely, like that hadn’t really been what he was worried about. It was interesting but didn’t bode well for whatever Foggy wanted to say.

“I just wanted to talk.” Foggy said slowly, “Um, but you probably won’t so maybe let me finish then you can jump in okay?”

_Oh god, this is it…_

Matt nodded. He didn’t trust himself to speak.

Foggy pulled in a deep breath before he started talking, “I know that we haven’t been great lately and I know you’re big on the lone wolf thing,” He said. Matt wasn’t sure what to make of the second half of that statement. Did Foggy think that Matt _wanted_ their friendship to fall apart?

It was everything he could do to keep from breaking in to tell Foggy how wrong he was.

If Foggy sensed his internal screaming he said nothing. He continued talking without any mention, “But, Matt, I’m really worried at this point. You know that even if I’m still working on getting over being mad at you, you can still come to me if something is wrong, right?”

_Wait, what?_ Matt sat still in shock.

Foggy huffed out an awkward, sad sounding laugh, “Okay, I guess I deserved that. I would much rather you jumping in right there to tell me that _of course_ you know that but at least you’re not lying to me to pretend that nothing is wrong either.”

“I…” Matt cleared his suddenly dry throat, “I don’t know what to say.”

He heard the scrape of Foggy’s teeth against his lip, “You’re barely eating, I can see you’ve lost weight. You’re barely sleeping, I know that even if we don’t live with each other anymore. You’re getting hurt so much more than you used to. At first I thought maybe you were just being less careful because I know now but that can’t be it. Karen doesn’t know, our clients don’t know and your cover is blown if someone gets too suspicious.” Foggy paused and took a deep breath, “I don’t know why you’re getting so hurt, if there’s something else going on or it’s all connected but Matt… I’m really scared.”

“Don’t be.” Matt answered almost reflexively.

“Out of my control, buddy.” Foggy said gently, “It’s just what happens when you love someone and you want to help them but don’t know how.”

His first instinct, because he was weak and Foggy was Foggy, was to tell him the truth. And he knew exactly how it would go. Foggy would be sad for him, he would want Matt to feel better even if it was at the expense at his own comfort and personal boundaries. He would tell Matt to going back to doing what he had been doing and for a little while it would be okay.

Eventually, though, the resentment would fester. It would tear them apart. It would ruin the tentative forgiveness that Matt had been earning.

The words felt like ashes in his mouth but he knew what he had to say, “I’m okay, Foggy. Things are just crazy after Fisk. I’ve got a handle on it.”

Silence.

“Crazy how?” Foggy asked. His heartbeat sped up and Matt knew he didn’t believe him.

“Power vacuum,” Matt elaborated and it hurt just a little less because that wasn’t a complete lie. What came next was, “It’s-it’s getting better.”

“Is that so?” Foggy said shakily. Matt could taste salt in the air.

“Why are you crying?” He asked without thinking.

Foggy went quiet again. He shifted in his seat and leaned forward so both of his arms were braced on the desk, “Because I’m more scared now than I was a few minutes ago. I’ve learned to accept that you don’t really trust me much but I was really hoping… I don’t know,” There was a heavy, wet quality to Foggy’s voice and Matt knew he was getting really upset. This had been building for longer than he had thought.  Foggy let out a strange sound that sort of made him think of a dam bursting, “Matt, I’m scared that soon I’m going to be holding your dead body, sure that I could have saved you if I hadn’t reacted the way I did to finding everything out. I’m afraid that I broke any chance I had of saving you. I’m terrified that you’re punishing yourself and that’s what all this is.”

Matt felt a tear run down his face and he realized that they were both crying. The fear and pain in Foggy’s voice was palpable.

Foggy sniffed and ran his hand down his wet cheeks, “Oh god, Matty, I’m afraid you’re going to die thinking that I hate you or something.”

“I know you don’t hate me.” Matt protested immediately. There wasn’t much he could say to the rest. He _couldn’t_ promise Foggy that he wasn’t going to die doing what he was doing but he could give Foggy that little bit of comfort.

_I know you don’t hate me and I’m going to make sure it stays that way._

“Matt, I could _never_ hate you. Do you understand me?” Foggy walked around Matt’s desk until he was standing right next to him. He turned Matt’s chair around to face him and pressed his hands to Matt’s shoulders, “Nothing you tell me could ever make me hate you. You can make me angry or sad or piss me off so bad I yell, I might even have to walk it off, but I’ll always come back and I will _never_ hate you.”

He spoke so earnestly and his heartbeat – Matt couldn’t resist, he couldn’t _not_ check – stayed so steady. Matt grit his teeth, everything in him wanted to explain but he knew he couldn’t. He knew he had to keep trying to figure out how to manage his senses without Foggy so he could _keep_ Foggy.

And he had to do it soon because this wasn’t fair to Foggy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the comments and kudos for the first chapter! Deeply appreciated!


	3. Chapter Three

**_Day Forty-Six_ **

 

_“Mom, I can’t find my chem book!”_

_“Okay, so go in there and tell your boss…”_

**_The blankets hurt, they scratch, they’re going to take skin rig…_ **

_“I told you not to do that you stupid little bitch!”_

**_A fly, two floors down, buzzing and buzzing and…_ **

_“… you need to do it earlier, I can’t…”_

_“I love you, pretty bo…”_

**_It smells rotten, dying, oh god someone’s body is rotting._ **

_“What do you want me to make you?”_

_“… ready for a walk? Huh, buddy?”_

Matt laid panting in bed. He was being attacked from every angle, by every sense he possessed.

**_Foggy… have to get up, have to go. Try, can’t let him…_ **

_“… I just really don’t know what you see in her…”_

_“God, aren’t you ready yet?”_

**_Frying pan, metal clanking, it sounds like cymbals, it sounds like thunder, it hurts so bad._ **

_“Would you just shut up?”_

**_Karen. Karen. Karen. Karen._ **

**_The eggs are burning._ **

He had to get up, he couldn’t… he couldn’t just give in. He had to go. He had to _think._ Thinking hurt, it took more effort than he had in him.

Flinging a leg over the edge of the bed was a mistake. He didn’t know where his body was in relation to everything else. He fell and the slap of the floor felt like a sledgehammer. He couldn’t think through the pain and the noise, oh the sound his body made…

_“… she never listens, you know? I don’t know how else to…”_

_“Mama!”_

**_The slap of skin against skin._ **

_“Did you call the school?”_

_“Where are they, where are they… Of all the mornings to lose my keys!”_

**_The sound of retching… she’s throwing up and oh, last night she had alfredo and it smelled so…_ **

**_Door slamming. The grating noise of metal against metal in the lock…_ **

Matt shook on the cold ground.

**_Have to drown it out. Can’t think. Have to…_ **

“ _You’re going to be late!”_

**_Yes, you are. Move! Don’t be so fucking weak._ **

**_Karen. Karen. Karen. Karen._ **

Matt tried to roll onto his knees but the motion made his stomach lurch. He dragged himself forward, sliding on his belly.

**_Too much, too much… need a bigger body._ **

_“I bet you liked that, huh?”_

_“… an appointment for my son, he’s got a fever and he’s…”_

**_Open the door. The shower. The water._ **

_“Dad, can I stop at Sarah’s on my way home from…”_

**_Foggy. Foggy. Foggy. Foggy._ **

By the time he reached the bathroom he could feel the bruises in his knees and hands forming. His skin was too soft, his bones made too much noise. Was he killing himself just trying to get to the shower? He was, he was going to explode in a million pieces and Foggy would never know.

**_He would, he would, he would, he would, he would …_ **

**_He cannot stand, so he crawls into the stall and he reaches and he is so pathetic…_ **

The water hit his skin almost like an accident. Like the sky opened up above him. His flailing hit the knob and he knew that because the sound of the bones in his finger hitting the metal reverberated through the air and Matt felt it all the way through his skull.

And the water hurt. It fell like little molten pellets and he was going to die under the spray but the noise was so loud and the rain fell onto the porcelain under his head and he could feel it and hear it and it helped but it hurt.

_“… where is the…”_

_“No!”_

**_The water on his skull smacks and smacks…_ **

**_Hurts, oh it hurts…_ **

Matt gagged and threw up. He could barely pick his head up and when he was done, quickly because there was so little to give, he laid back down and tried not to breathe.

_“… I’m going to…”_

_Was_ he breathing? He was. Was he shaking? He was. He tried to focus on each breath, now that the water made things quieter but he was so tired, so wrung out. He had to focus every minute of the day and his tired mind had nothing left to give.

**_Pounding on the door._ **

“ _Really? Oh my…”_

_“Matt!”_

_“Hello, this is Mrs…”_

_“Get up, honey!”_

_“Matt, answer me!”_

**_Get out of here. Go to the office. Show Foggy you’re not too weak to respect him._ **

**_Shaky breathing. Pounding heartbeat._ **

Matt let out a miserable moan, he wanted to get up because the water still hurt and the smell was awful but he couldn’t. He couldn’t move. Even the sensation of his foot twitching on the slick surface felt so harsh.

“Holy shit, Matt.”

_“Did you hear what Maya…”_

_“Is that good?”_

“Matt? Buddy?”

_“What about now?”_

“Matt?”

**_Hands against his shoulder_.**

Matt gasped and flinched, the movement sent him into another plane of existence.

“Matty, talk to me. I won’t touch you if you don’t want but please tell me what this is.”

**_The dog won’t stop barking._ **

The shaking felt like it was getting worse, like he was in shock, like he was breaking apart. He bit his lip and tasted blood and it made him gag again but nothing came up but the spasms of his stomach muscles felt like electric shocks.

“Jesus, I don’t know what to do. Matt, can you hear me? Did you hit your head?”

**_Foggy’s heartbeat, don’t listen, don’t listen!_ **

He moaned again. Where was Foggy?

_“Oh my god, are you serious?”_

_“Could you please…”_

_“Yes, there!”_

Gently, gently, there was a hand against the back of his head. Was it his hand? No, no it wasn’t. It moved so slowly, so carefully, pressing and touching and looking.

”Matt, did you hit your head? Please, answer me. Are you hurt?”

“No,” He whispered.

**_A sigh. Relief?_ **

“Matty, what’s wrong? Why are you laying in the shower like this? The water’s cold, I’m going to turn it off…”

“No!”

The water drowned out the noise and if the noise got louder Matt would go back back back.

_“Sir, I’m trying to explain…”_

“Why not? Matty, why not?”

**_Because I’ll explode again and the world will scream and I can’t keep doing this. I hate it. Please, I don’t know what to do._ **

“ _Arun, where did you put…”_

**_The glass got hit, just a little ping of noise that built into thunder and the glass rained down._ **

_“So did I!”_

“Matty, please.”

“Keeps happening… everything in the world is shouting at me…” Matt mumbled. His teeth chattered.

**_Skin on metal, twisting metal together. Groaning._ **

The water got marginally warmer and Matt tried not to reel from the change, even if it was nice, even if it helped.

“Has this ever happened before?”

**_Foggy’s mouth was open, gaping, he was afraid, he was disgusted._ **

“Yes.”

“Recently?”

“Y-yes.”

_“Did you watch it last night?”_

_“Not right now, honey.”_

_“_ Why?” Foggy asked, desperation clear in his voice.

_“Mom, Eric just asked me to…”_

**_Don’t say it, think of something else. Think, think, it hurts to think…_ **

“You,” Matt let the word spill out.

“What?”

**_Confusion. The tips of Foggy’s hair against his shoulders, he was shaking his head._ **

“Stupid,” Matt licked his lips, “I’m stupid. Stick was right.”

_“Kenzie, get down from there!”_

“You’re not making any sense buddy. What was Stick right about? What about me?”

**_The metal twisted again and the water got ever so slightly warmer but less? Did cold feel like more because it hurt? Did warm hurt?_ **

“Shouldn’t rely on people.” He tried to answer, “Stick said… and he was right.”

“He wasn’t, buddy. You know he wasn’t.”

Was he crying? “It hurts. I’m so tired.”

“Why is this happening, Matty?”

_“What are we doing for dinner?”_

_“Shhh!”_

**_Tripped, the bottle fell right out of his hands…_ **

“Matty?”

_“Close the window.”_

“Matt!”

The fear in Foggy’s voice jolted Matt, “Head hurts.” He repeated? Had he told Foggy that? “Can’t focus anymore, I’m sorry. Don’t be mad.”

**_But he will be. He’s mad, he’ll leave. Shut up, shut up, shut up!_ **

 “I’m not mad.” Foggy said because he didn’t know, “I need to you make me understand so I can help you.”

“Don’t be mad. I’m trying.” He begged.

“I’m not mad, Matty. What are you trying to do?”

The water felt less again and Matt started shivering again when more air hit his skin.

“You don’t like it. Don’t leave, I’m trying.” The words wouldn’t stop, “I’m sorry I was stupid and weak and… and I’m trying, it’s just harder than I thought it would be.”

_“Remind me to buy bread.”_

“I won’t leave.” Foggy said with so much patience and heartbreak in his voice that Matt almost sobbed, “Tell me what you’re trying to do?”

Matt’s hand slid across the porcelain and bumped into Foggy’s. Or maybe Foggy’s had always been there? Shouldn’t he be able to tell? His skin was warm and it burned but it was so good.

“Not listen,” Matt answered as he tangled his fingers with Foggy’s.

Foggy’s hand squeezed his, “Okay, okay, I get it. Everything’s shouting and your super ears are overwhelmed. So I want you to focus on me and…”

Matt pushed back, away, as though distance would make hearing Foggy’s heart less likely. Less tempting. It wasn’t. It didn’t help. “No! I’m trying. I’m sorry!”

“What?” Foggy was startled, Matt could hear it in his voice, he was so scared and Matt couldn’t stop making it worse… “Matty, come on, I need you to try.”

“I am!”

Foggy made soft shushing noises, “I know, I know, we’re going to do it together. I want you to just focus on me. On what I’m saying…”

_“Could we just order out tonight?”_

“Don’t be mad.” He whimpered.

Foggy reached for him again. His hand barely pressed against the bare skin of his side. “I’m not mad. Why would I be mad?”

“Because I’m not good at it.” Matt admitted like it was a secret. “Because I used you to drown everything out and I got too used to it and I’m trying but it’s _hard_.”

“What?”

The panic felt thick and cloying and it made him babble, “I’m trying, don’t leave. I’ll get better at it. It’s just so hard.”

Foggy’s fingers came again and this time they held Matt’s and Matt squeezed back, “Matty, I need you to explain better. What do you mean, you used me to drown everything out?

_“What is wrong with you today?”_

He couldn’t answer, he couldn’t.

“Matt?” Foggy repeated.

_“I just finished…”_

“Focus… focus on one thing to drown everything out. All my senses,” Matt whispered. Or shouted? Was there a difference? “One of S-Stick’s tricks.”

**_Pounding heart_.**

**_Stop listening!_ **

Matt’s mouth opened while he panted and Foggy was so so quiet. Was he still there? Was Matt imagining him? Was he finally going crazy just like the nuns thought he would?

Then, “Oh… oh _Matty_.”

His hand was squeezed a little tighter and Matt remembered that they were touching so Foggy had to be real. “Don’t be mad.” He whispered, or maybe just mouthed.

Foggy heard him. He always heard, always saw, never understood. Matt’s fault.

“I’m _not_ mad at you.” Foggy said with force, “But I get it now and we’re totally going to talk about it later but you need to listen to me now, okay? I need you to do something for me.”

Anything.

“What?”

“What does my heart sound like?” Foggy asked. He leaned close, maybe even under the rain. The water. The shower?

Matt tried to pull his hand away but Foggy held him tight. “No.”

“Yes, please, what does it sound like?” Foggy pressed and he didn’t sound mad? His voice didn’t change. He was just scared but Matt wasn’t sure, couldn’t know, couldn’t ask. “Listen and tell me.”

He was so tired of trying. Of focusing so hard every day that his brain ached and hurt too much to let him rest. He was going to ruin them but he couldn’t say no anymore. He stopped listening to the water and the people and everything around him as best he could and he focused hard on Foggy’s heartbeat. Too fast, because he was afraid, but so steady and familiar.

“Matty? Are you listening?” Foggy asked.

Matt nodded just a little, his head still pressed to the bottom of his shower.

“Good boy,” Foggy whispered. “What does it sound like?”

“Home,” Matt answered with a wavering voice.

Foggy bit his lip and Matt tensed up again. “Shh,” Foggy soothed instantly. “I’m not mad. I promise. Keep listening.”

So Matt did.

“Don’t be afraid. I’m going to try to turn the water off. You’re turning blue.” Foggy whispered as he gently pulled his hand free and then he did it.

Matt braced himself but it wasn’t so bad. Not like before.

Foggy was walking away, “Can you still hear me, Matty?”

“Yes,” Matt answered because he could hear Foggy from so much further away than the other side of the bathroom.

Fabric moved and then Foggy was kneeling beside him again. Gently, a towel pressed against his skin but didn’t rub. “You don’t have to think. I’m just telling you so you know what’s going to happen. We’re going to lay here for a little while longer and you’re going to keep listening. Then we’re going to stand up and you’re going to keep listening. Then we’re going to get you dried off and in some other clothes and, you guessed it, you’re going to keep listening. You with me so far?”

Matt nodded.

“Good, that’s really good buddy.”

Foggy’s praise felt like a warm blanket. It felt _right._

The towel kept pressing but not rubbing against his skin. Almost like Foggy knew Matt couldn’t take it. His pants were sopping wet and cold.

Minutes dragged on and Foggy dried him off as best he could without Matt moving.

“Do you think you can stand, Matt?” Foggy asked gently.

He knew Foggy wanted him to, so he nodded yes.

“Okay, we’re going to go slow and I’m going to help you.” Foggy said. He pulled the towel away and Matt shivered without it. His legs moved, uncoordinated, until they were under him and with Foggy’s help he knelt on the porcelain. Then the towel was back and wrapped around his shoulders. His legs felt like jelly but they held under him as Foggy pulled him up.

“Don’t think I’m being forward here, Matt, but the pants have to go. Underwear too. I’ve seen it all before, remember?” Foggy joked a little. His heartbeat sped up, though, even while his fingers hooked under the waistband and he tugged everything down. “They’re wet and they smell like puke.”

He stepped out of the wet mess when Foggy nudged him to. Then he leaned forward until he was pressed against Foggy. He laid his head on Foggy’s shoulder and took a deep breath. His hair smelled better than anything else around them.

Foggy didn’t make some joke about Matt being naked, he just wrapped his arms around him without too much pressure.

“You’re still listening?” Foggy asked softly.

Matt said, “Yes.”

“Getting all sorts of interesting information?” Foggy teased. His voice sounded off, though, so Matt shifted his weight back so he stood without hanging on Foggy.

“No,” Matt whispered, “Just listening.”

Foggy sighed, “Clothes, sleep, listening. Let’s go.” He pulled Matt’s hand to his elbow and they walked out of the bathroom together. Matt didn’t let go until he was standing in his bedroom and Foggy tapped his fingers.

He heard Foggy moving around, opening drawers and pulling out clothes. He did what Foggy said and moved how he wanted him to move and got in bed when he said to get in.

And then the covers pulled back on the other side and Foggy got in too. “Sleep and listen. I’ll be here, okay?”

“Okay,” Matt said. He closed his eyes and he wrapped the rhythm of Foggy’s heart all around him and for the first time in over a month, maybe over a year, maybe since they got their own apartments, he fell asleep. Just like that.

 

**_Day Forty-Seven_ **

****

The first thing that Matt registered when he opened his eyes was Foggy but that made sense because Foggy was also the last thing that he’d thought about before he had fallen asleep.

“Foggy?” He mumbled. His limbs felt heavy, like he had been sleeping both too long and not enough. Going back to sleep felt nice but he was also so thirsty he could hardly think about anything else.

The groan of the bedsprings announced Foggy’s position better than his half-working brain had managed since it had come back online. “I’m here.” Foggy said, just to his right. He was sitting just beside Matt, perched on the side of his bed.

He turned onto his side to face Foggy, “What time is it?”

“About two in the morning. For reference, I found you at eleven in the morning… yesterday.” Foggy said. He didn’t sound angry about the day wasted, though, he just sounded sort of fond. It was a tone of voice that Matt was used to, even if he was still a little bemused by the things that brought it out. When Matt gave in and ate the chocolate that Foggy shoved towards him, when he ditched studying for reading Tolkien and apparently when he slept longer in one stretch than he could ever remember sleeping before.

He dragged a hand down his face and rubbed his eyes, “I’m so thirsty.”

Foggy stood up, “I’ll get you some water.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can get up.” Matt said quickly. He even made semi-convincing movements with his legs.

Foggy laughed, “Yeah, you look ready to run a marathon, buddy. Stay there, I can get water.” He patted Matt’s covered right leg and walked away.

Matt sighed and relaxed. He was fuzzy on the details but he knew for a fact that he had woken up yesterday completely overloaded and that Foggy had found him. A lot of the stuff in the middle was muddled though. When his senses snapped like that other people’s lives mixed into his and ruined his perception of self and time.

He had so many memories of yesterday but he wasn’t sure which of them were his. Most of them didn’t make actual sense. Sometimes the way his senses worked meant that the tiniest of actions felt completely different to him and the only way he could interpret them was completely off. He remembered rain, losing his keys, burning eggs, puking a lot, having sex, crying and talking to Foggy. He was pretty sure not all of that was him, though.

Pretty sure.

Foggy walked back in the room and Matt reluctantly pushed himself up high enough on his pillows to drink without drenching himself. He shook his hand out under the covers before he held it out for the glass but that didn’t work, it was still shaking. Just a little but probably enough for Foggy to notice.

Still, Foggy handed him the glass and Matt wasted no time. He drained half of it in one go.

“You weren’t kidding.” Foggy laughed a little. “I have food too.”

That sounded a little less appealing. Mostly he wanted to see how the water did.

“Don’t say you’re not hungry.” Foggy said before Matt could say anything (probably that). “You haven’t eaten in over twenty-four hours, unless I’m guessing wrong and we both know I’m not. You should be ravenous, Matt.”

He wasn’t. That was kind of just him. “I’m okay.” He settled on saying.

Foggy sighed and Matt heard his heartbeat pound a little harder. Anger?

And just like that, he remembered telling Foggy that his heartbeat sounded like home and Foggy telling him to just keep listening.

“So, I hear the word _okay_ and I can see the look on your face,” Foggy said. He shifted so he was sitting on the bed cross-legged opposite Matt, “I’m thinking the sleepy afterglow of your earlier disjointed honesty is over and we can get down to business. First, keep listening to my heart. Do whatever you need to do.”

“Foggy,” Matt said hesitantly, “I don’t really remember a lot of yesterday but…”

“You don’t?” Foggy asked. The question sounded so fake, like a set up. Foggy kept talking and Matt felt his stomach clench up in more knots with each word, “Because I do, Matt. It’s seared in my memory. Would you like the blow-by-blow or the highlights?”

He didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent.

“I think the blow-by-blow,” Foggy said in answer to that, “Settle in, Buddy, because this is like, my monologue. If this were a play, the actor playing me would weep as he tried to learn all of my lines. I’ve got _that much_ to say. You can jump in when you’ve got anything honest to add and feel free to keep at your water. This is dinner theatre.”

Matt winced and took a sip of water, just to appease him. Foggy made a pleased hum, so that was something.

“I get to work yesterday and none of my co-workers have arrived. ‘That is fine’ I said to myself. ‘I’ll get to make the first pot of coffee, which means that Matt and I can start the day with the actual beverage and not whatever Karen tortures out of the machine’, so I thought the day was starting off great.” Foggy said. He seemed like he wanted to paint the picture for Matt, which he knew Foggy liked to do, and he normally loved that but this time it felt dirty. He was going to get an intimate picture of how he had ruined another day for Foggy.

Foggy nudged the glass of water to remind him to drink it.

“Karen strolled in looking lovely as always. And I waited for you, and I waited and Karen called and I called and we waited some more.” Foggy continued. “So I left and tried not to run here because I was sure you were going to be as fine as you swore you were last time you were late and I didn’t want to show up here sweaty and panting. I figured I’d spare you the guilt. I knocked on the door, then pounded, then yelled, then unlocked it myself with that spare key I made you give me.”

Foggy took a sort of shaky breath, like he was reliving what came next. “And I heard the shower running. I called for you again but you didn’t answer so I kind of just barged in. And there you were, laying in sweat pants with no shirt on the floor of your shower, about eight inches from some half washed away puke. You were shaking and the water was mostly cold.”

To say that he hated that Foggy had seen him like that was an understatement so massive he didn’t know how to describe it. He hated that Foggy would have the pain of that memory, he hated that anyone had seen him so weak. He had barely managed to make it up to Foggy for walking in and finding him half dead all those weeks ago, how could he even begin to make amends for this?

Actually, he knew exactly how. Or at least how to start.

“Sometimes,” Matt started haltingly, “Water, um, helps drown things out. Baths are better, but I don’t have a tub. So I take a shower if I need to relax my senses a little.”

Foggy nodded, “I guessed that was why. Thanks for confirming.” Matt heard him pull something out of the pocket of what smelled like the hoodie that Foggy kept at Matt’s for sleepovers and instantly he sensed banana. Foggy started peeling it, “You were completely unresponsive at first. It wasn’t until I touched you and you reacted like I burned you or something that I got anything. Luckily, it clued you into me being there with you.”

He broke off a piece of banana and held it out to Matt. A year ago he would have announced where the banana was by calling out a position on a clock. Now, he just held it there and Matt knew better than to say no. At least it was just a banana, unlikely to turn his stomach. He accepted it and took a cautious bite.

“We’re going to swing back around to food, by the way. I could count your ribs, you know that? I haven’t been able to do that since undergrad.” Foggy said conversationally as if the mere mention of it wasn’t making his heart go a little louder. “So where were we? Ahh, yes, you were shivering in the shower and making absolutely no sense. I was sure that you had a serious concussion. Like a cracked skull or something. You said you hadn’t been hit on the head, though, and there was no blood. When you let me touch your head, there didn’t seem to be any bumps. So from there I started to try to get you to explain. You were mostly concerned with me not being mad at you, though, and not so concerned with explaining.”

The sound of his own voice, wrecked and shaking, begging Foggy not to be mad came back to him like an echo.

“Generally you kept telling me that your head hurt, that you were tired, that you were trying and you said some stuff about me and Stick.” Foggy said a little more gently. He handed Matt another piece of banana. “It took me a while to catch on, I’m sorry.”

Him apologizing made something in Matt twist guiltily, “You have _nothing_ to be sorry for,” He insisted.

Foggy made a noise that sounded bitter and frustrated, “I know you, Matt. Maybe not all the secret parts but I know how you are. You don’t let yourself feel good, you don’t let yourself have nice things or even just essential things. And you don’t say anything when something’s wrong but I can tell. You’ve been off for a while and I should have pushed sooner. I should have realized that there was more to the heartbeat thing than just reading me with it.”

Matt turned his face away, “It’s not your fault that I let myself get dependent on it. I shouldn’t have.”

“Why did you?” Foggy asked quietly.

He sighed and clenched his jaw. He owed Foggy the answer, “At first I only did it sometimes. I had used heartbeats before, mostly teachers or the nuns. Stick taught me the trick of focusing on one thing continuously until it became second nature. It sort of made a filter or, or a shield maybe? Without all the input screaming at me, I can focus on the things that really matter. It also means I get to put less effort into doing the day to day stuff.”

Foggy leaned forward, “What do you mean, less effort?” He seemed so intent on what Matt was saying that a new layer of guilt settled over him. Foggy just wanted to understand the way his brain worked and he had been nothing but evasive and unwilling to put it into sentences that would actually make sense to Foggy.

“If I have to filter out all that noise and all the smells and all the sensations or tastes, although those are easier, then that takes a lot of focus right off the bat.” Matt tried to explain. He had never put it into words before, though, so he wasn’t sure if Foggy was going to understand but he was going to try. “Like all of that can take ninety percent of what I’ve got to give. But if I can use tricks to filter some of that input out before I even have to make sense of it, then it might only take me forty percent, less even. That’s more that I have to give to doing what I actually need to do, like at work.”

Foggy seemed to consider that for a minute. His brow was furrowed but his heartbeat held steady. “I think I get it.” He said finally, “My sister used to have a hard time sleeping, because she couldn’t stop thinking long enough to drop off. So she used to find really long songs and pick one instrument and focus on just that. It drowned out everything else and it let her relax enough to rest.”

It sounded close enough to him. He took a bite of the banana and said, “Yeah, that’s a good example.”

“Okay, so I get why you do it,” Foggy said, “But why me? And why did stopping have such an impact? Couldn’t you have honed in on Karen or Judy from that bookkeeping-slash-gambling place next door?”

Matt opened his mouth, hesitated and then closed it. It was hard to explain, partially because he would have to put into words just how much Foggy meant to him.

“Take your time, Matty.” Foggy encouraged.

He couldn’t pull back now, not when Foggy had possibly saved his sanity yesterday. “I used yours as occasionally as I used other people’s at first. Just proximity, I guess. And then we got closer and we were together all the time and I just kind of started using you all the time. I didn’t mean to, really.”

“You said…” And it was Foggy’s turn to hesitate, “You said my heart sounded like home.”

Embarrassing, but accurate, “Well, it does. And you smell like home and the sound of your voice is like home. My Dad and I moved around a few times, as a kid. I didn’t care as long as I was with him. When I lost him, I stayed in our apartment for few days with a neighbor until the state figured out what to do with me. Without him, though, the apartment wasn’t home. And when I missed home at the orphanage, I just missed him. Home has always been people, to me. Two people, really.”

Foggy sniffed and Matt knew it wasn’t a bad kind of tears. He didn’t mention it, because that wasn’t fair, but he knew it was because Foggy was a happy sort of overwhelmed.

He kept talking, finishing out the questions Foggy had asked, “After a while, I didn’t even need to put thought into tracking your heartbeat. My body just did it. Things got so much easier, you were better than anything else I had ever tried. Focusing when we were apart got easier too, because my head didn’t hurt all the time like it used to.”

“And then I told you to stop.” Foggy finished.

The guilt in his voice made Matt’s heart ache. He never wanted Foggy to feel badly for asking Matt to stop. It wasn’t Foggy’s fault that Matt listened for a better reason than he had initially thought and it definitely wasn’t Foggy’s fault that it made him feel strange. Foggy had the right to feel the way he felt. “If I hadn’t let myself get dependent, it wouldn’t have been a problem. Don’t feel guilty, it was my own stupid mistake.” Matt said.

Foggy shook his head, “Matty, you can always depend on me. I depend on you. That’s what best friends are _for_.”

“I think this is a little different.” Matt said, because using someone’s heartbeat to maintain focus and sanity was a hell of a lot different than relying on someone to laugh at a funny story or be a wingman – the regular best friend stuff, “And to answer you about why it’s been so hard to sort myself out when I stopped… well, there’s a few reasons. One, I have to find a new thing to focus on and I also have to focus on not focusing on you. I told you, it’s like second nature.

“So you had the transitional shitty few days but then you never got a chance to get over them and it just got worse and worse.” Foggy surmised.

“Pretty much.” Matt admitted, “You’d think my brain would be so exhausted from it that sleep would be easy but it wasn’t. My head throbbed and every little noise made it worse. The migraines I used to get came back with a vengeance.”

“Was that what this morning was?”

Matt shook his head, “No, not really. Sometimes all my control just snaps and everything comes at me all at once.”

“Sensory overload?” Foggy asked, surprising Matt. That must have been on his face because Foggy laughed softly, “I did some research into senses after you told me a little about yours.”

“Well, uh, yes, sensory overload.” Matt confirmed. It was close enough, anyway. Honestly, he was a little flattered that Foggy had researched anything about his senses at all, especially in light of how he had found out about them.

“It made a lot of stuff that happened in college make much more sense, let me tell you,” Foggy laughed softly and held out more banana, “Last bit, finish and let’s start talking about the other three major topics.”

If Foggy thought that was going to make the banana more appetizing instead of lead in his stomach he was severely overestimating how comfortable Matt was talking about everything. “Three?”

“Chill, I can feel your terror from here.” Foggy tried to reassure him, “One, what the hell was that last night? Check. Two, why do you look like Matt of the Living Dead? Check. Now, we move on to food. You don’t need focus to eat.”

Matt leaned his head back and let out a long breath, “No, but migraines make me want to puke and strong smells make me want to puke and being dizzy because I’m really tired makes me want to puke… You want me to go on?”

“No, I get it.” Then his voice dropped to an undertone, “You’ve always been weird about eating anyway.” Foggy muttered. Whether he remembered that Matt could hear him or not was debatable. He might have said it on purpose, even.

Shoving the last bit of banana in his mouth, Matt waved his hand impatiently. He wanted to be done talking about all of this.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here,” Foggy started, “And say that the focus problems, migraines, lack of sleep and lack of eating are what got you so many injures but please correct me if I’m wrong.”

That was easier. He wasn’t sure what it said about him that bleeding was such a non-issue in his eyes. “You’re not wrong.” Matt confirmed.

Foggy seemed to tense as he pressed, “So if you start getting back into the swing of regular human life, you think it won’t happen so much?”

Matt nodded and Foggy relaxed.

“Good,” Foggy said, “Last bit before you get to take a shower Mr-I-Laid-In-Puke-Water-For-God-Knows-How-Long and I get to change your sheets because eww.”

Matt quirked a smile and tried not to tune into the smell that he had been resolutely ignoring.

Foggy took a deep breath, “Why didn’t you just tell me _why_ you were listening to my heartbeat in the first place?”

He had really been hoping that wasn’t going to come up. Foggy was going to be hurt, no matter how Matt phrased it. It was going to be the same as their first Thanksgiving when Matt refused to go to Foggy’s family’s house for break or when Matt had spent ten minutes trying to politely refuse the first ‘just because’ present Foggy had ever given him. In his efforts to not be a burden thus hurt Foggy, he inevitably hurt Foggy. It was like Foggy was incapable of thinking of Matt as a problem and the mere suggestion that he might be offended him.

So how not to hurt him with this?

“Did you think I wouldn’t get it?” Foggy prodded when the silence dragged on too long.

“No,” Matt answered slowly. That was completely true as well. He knew Foggy would understand, which was why he would agree to let Matt keep listening in. He already had.

“You thought it would make you look weak or something?” Foggy said, like this was a guessing game, “You figured it was too much for my delicate sensibilities to handle? You thought I’d say no?”

He sighed, because clearly Foggy wasn’t going to let it be, “No, I knew you would say yes.”

Foggy’s confusion was obvious. Matt could hear his teeth against his lip and knew that Foggy was staring at him. He turned his face away a little, as though he could hide what he felt that way. Foggy always read him too easily. “I knew if I explained that you would take it back. But the reason that you didn’t like it in the first place is still there. I can’t listen to your heartbeat and not notice when you’re lying or angry or startled. And that… that makes you mad. That creeps you out.”

He tried not to take it personally when Foggy stood up and paced next to the bed a few times. The other man was entitled to do what he needed to get his thoughts together.

Foggy stopped facing Matt, “I really wish,” He said finally, “That I had the last few months to do over again.”

That… wasn’t what he had been expecting? Matt turned his face back towards Foggy, “Huh?”

“I’m not sorry that I got mad, because finding out that you’ve been lying about some seriously fundamental stuff is a good reason to be pissed.” Foggy explained with a low voice. Matt felt his own throat get a little tight in response, “But you have no idea how hard I’ve been working on getting you to trust me, to _really_ trust me, over the entire course of our friendship and somehow in three months I undid any progress I’ve made over the last like three years.”

“I…” Matt gaped, “Foggy, I trust you more than anyone.”

“I know that and you have no idea how happy that makes me, but Matty,” Foggy sat back down, this time as close to Matt as he could get. He reached out and gently held Matt’s hand in his, “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you trusting me more than anyone doesn’t carry that much weight when you factor in that you don’t trust anyone else and you don’t actually trust me all that much either.”

His mouth gaped open but nothing came out. He didn’t know what to say to that. Gently, Foggy reached out with his free hand to push his chin up to close his soundless lips.

“You didn’t trust me with your senses, ever, even before you started putting on a mask and beating people up. You didn’t trust me enough to tell me about that mask either.” Foggy said quietly. His voice was steady but his heart was racing. “You haven’t trusted me with the consequences of my asking you to stop listening to my heartbeat until an hour ago. You don’t trust me with anything but the most basic facts about Stick and how you can do everything that you can do.”

It was strange to hear all of it laid out like that.

“And I get,” Foggy kept talking, “That some of it is because you just don’t want to talk about it at all, Stick especially. I also get that you haven’t been an open book now that I know because you were afraid of making me angrier.”

Matt nodded a little hollowly, “If you let me listen still, eventually it’ll ruin us.”

Foggy pulled in a shaky breath that sounded vaguely like a laugh. He leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together, “Someday, Matthew Murdock, I’ll get you to trust that I’m never leaving you.” And then he gently pressed their lips together. Matt wasn’t even sure it could be called a kiss, the pressure was so light. He sat there, frozen in shock.

As though he knew Matt couldn’t process what he’d just done, Foggy pulled back just enough to give him a little space. “You could say something, Matty.”

It was everything Matt had to keep from poking his tongue out to taste Foggy on his lips. “Why did you do that?”

“Because I’ve been in love with you for a long time and I think you love me back.” Foggy said with a nervous little laugh, “But if I’m totally off base then please tell me immediately so I don’t melt into a puddle of embarrassed shame by digging this hole any deeper.”

“Of course I love you,” Matt answered instantly. Loving Foggy was his default. He had almost forgotten what _not_ loving Foggy meant. He barely let himself think about it, anymore, because too much dreaming about what they could be like together tended to send him out looking for other relationships to chase the high and that was how disasters like Elektra happened.

Foggy shook his head and they were so close still that Matt could feel the air Foggy displaced move against his cheeks, “Love like a best friend or _in love_? Wanna-make-out love. Be-my-boyfriend love.”

“Both.” Matt whispered. “All of it.”

“Okay,” Foggy said softly back, “That’s great. I have a new question, though, because I think I made myself pretty obviously open to the possibility early on. Maybe I should have stated it explicitly, but I’m pretty sure calling you handsome so much and making so many comments about all good relationships needed a friendship basis to really work were pretty clear. I’ve made quite a few marriage jokes too. This, of course, is without even taking into consideration that you can definitely hear when my heart speeds up around you, among… _other things_.”

Matt could make some comment about how lust makes hearts speed up too but that wasn’t fair. He was pretty sure that he knew the exact month when it was obvious that Foggy’s lust had turned to outright love. The only thing left to say was the truth, “Couldn’t be with you if I was lying about everything.”

“And you couldn’t have just told me?” Foggy asked, fondly exasperated.

“You trusted me so _easily_.” Matt still marveled at how quickly Foggy had embraced him. “It took me so much longer. By the time I did, you would have already hated me when you found out I had been lying. So I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t risk it. Maybe we couldn’t be, you know, _together_ but I could still be your friend.”

Foggy squeezed his hand and leaned back so he was sitting properly again. “I never thought about it like that.”

Matt had, he had thought about it _endlessly_. By the time he felt comfortable enough with Foggy to tell him about Stick and his senses, Foggy had already taken him home to his family, had taken care of him when he had the flu and had gone to bat for him with a publishing company over how long it was taking them to get a Braille version of one of their textbooks on the market. He both proudly and casually called Matt his best friend to anyone that would listen. He had told Matt all of his embarrassing childhood stories, about all the girls and boys he was dating. He cried on Matt’s shoulder when a class had gotten too stressful. He trusted Matt with all of his secrets, with his family, with his tears. For him to find out at that point…

“It was too late. It was always going to be too late to tell you.” Matt finished.

Foggy shook his head again, “No, Matty, don’t you see? Maybe it was always going to be too late to tell me and have me not be angry about the lies, but now you _have_ told me and _I don’t hate you._ No risks left for losing me. I’m still here and I’m going to stay.”

Matt leaned his head back against the wall. Never did he think that he would be having this conversation with Foggy. Maybe something like it in the beginning of their friendship, in a friends-with-benefits way, but after he had realized that they were both in love with each other and that neither was going to make a move for their various reasons, he was sure he was never going to be tested like this. “It’s not that easy,”

“Why not?” Foggy asked with such a mix of exasperation and desperation in his voice that Matt felt like scum.

“I…I…” Matt stumbled to form a sentence that sounded even halfway intelligent and didn’t hurt Foggy.

“ _I_ … don’t want to be with you, Foggy, love be damned?” Foggy demanded.

That would be a lie so huge Matt wasn’t sure it would make it out of his mouth, “No, but…”

“I don’t find you attractive so this could never work, Foggy?” This time Matt could hear Foggy’s heart pound just a little louder. Apparently, somehow, this was a genuine fear of his.

Matt couldn’t let that stand, so even if he wasn’t sure how to express anything else in this conversation, he knew what to say to that, “Sometimes, I get off thinking about you talking to me.”

A jolt in Foggy’s heartbeat, “Wow, okay,” He laughed a little, “That’s, um, really hot. Dirty talk, huh?”

He didn’t regret saying it, because Foggy never deserved to think that he wasn’t attractive to Matt, but he still felt a blush warming his cheeks. It made Foggy laugh again though, so it was probably okay if he didn’t elaborate.

Foggy reached up and rested his hand against Matt’s jaw. His thumb traced a little path over his probably flaming cheekbone and he sighed, “So what’s the problem, then, Matty? Those are the only two things that change anything for me.”

“Just for a start,” Matt reminded quietly, “Daredevil.”

“What about it?” Foggy asked, “Because whatever the downside is, I’m already living it. I’m already worried every minute the sun is down that you’ll get hurt and I’m worried every minute the sun is up that you’ll be exposed. If anything being your boyfriend would mean I’d hopefully get a much more frequent view of you naked, so you couldn’t hide injuries from me.”

Matt wanted to say that if he and Foggy were together, the very real possibility of his death would hurt Foggy even more. If he was being honest with himself, though, he knew it would hurt all the same. Maybe more if they continued as they had been, because regret was a potent thing.

And really, almost everyone who knew them already kind of thought they were having sex, so legally Foggy was in the same boat he was already in.

“I’m an awful boyfriend,” Matt admitted, “I don’t communicate well, I had a girlfriend tell me I’m too broken to love anyone and my senses make me super picky.”

“Okay,” Foggy said patiently, “One, I know you don’t communicate well. I’ve always known that and if I didn’t, I just got a crash course over the last twenty-four hours. I’m already dealing with it and sure I wish you’d just tell me things but I know how to work around some of that already. Time and proximity are going to make it even easier.”

Foggy’s voice got a little harder as he continued, “Secondly, tell me who said that because I will personally facebook message her a nice ‘fuck you’ because seriously, who says that? Had she even met you? There’s a thousand different ways to express love and if she was too blind to see any of the ways you do it then she didn’t deserve you. I know you love me and not just because you tell me. Told me twenty minutes ago, whatever. Thirdly, again, how is that different than what I’m dealing with at our current level of friendship?”

Foggy made it sound so easy, so logical that they should be together. And, God help him, Matt wanted it. Giving in would be like getting everything he had been dreaming about for years.

“So what’s your next issue?” Foggy asked. Determination bled into every line of the fire that made him  up in Matt’s mind. He would do this all night, if he had to.

And Matt could too. There were so many reasons why Foggy deserved someone better than him. Matt could list them all… but Foggy would counter every one. He had _chosen_ Matt. He wanted Matt. At this point he knew every dark secret that made him up, some in more detail than others, and he wanted Matt anyway. And maybe someday Matt would cross a line that Foggy couldn’t overcome but neither one of them could know the answer. They would just have to worry about it if they got there.

“I don’t have one,” Matt said finally.

Foggy froze and his heart sped up. Matt felt his own start to match it as the silence dragged on for a few seconds longer than he figured Foggy would let it.

Matt shifted uncomfortably on the bed, “Unless you do?”

“I’m sorry, I think I need a minute to process what just happened.” Foggy said faintly. “Are we dating?”

“Um, yes?” Matt answered. Were they? Wasn’t that what Foggy had been arguing for? “If you want to be?”

Foggy laughed like he was so thrown off it was the only thing left to do, “I kind of thought we were going to talk about it and you were going to try to talk me out of it, then we were going to have a three to six month waiting-and-angsting period where we weren’t dating but both desperately wanted to be and then some major event would happen, possibly a kidnapping where you kiss me in public after you save me while it’s raining, before we got this show on the road.”

_Wow,_ “That sounds… elaborate.” Matt said. Clearly, Foggy had spent a lot of time planning this whole thing out.

Foggy sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck, “Well, it’s been like a decade. I’ve had a lot daydreams about this. Uhh, not to talk you out of it, of course, but are you sure you don’t have any other issues we need to talk through - ”

Matt cut him off, leaning forward and pressing his lips to Foggy’s. He heard Foggy’s heart stutter, surprised. For a few seconds, Foggy’s lips were completely still under his own and in that time Matt managed to have a heart attack. Should he have asked? Was kissing an acceptable answer to a question? Then Foggy got on board and Matt’s fears flew out of his head.

Just when Matt thought Foggy’s tongue was going to come into play, the other man pulled back a little. “Matty,” Foggy whispered. He pressed another kiss to Matt’s lips. “Matty, I want to hear you say it.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t trust you sooner,” Matt pressed his forehead to Foggy’s so they were sharing the same panting breaths, “I’m sorry I kept so many secrets and that it hurt you. I’m sorry that I’m probably going to do it more in the future, because I won’t _want_ to hurt you or talk about it or whatever,” He took a deep breath, “But I love you and I want you and if you want me too then I’ll try my hardest for you.”

Foggy pressed another shaky kiss to Matt’s lips before he pulled back with something that fell between gasp and giggle, “I had a lot of time to imagine this conversation while you slept. This has gone way better than I could have hoped.”

“Well,” Matt answered back, “I’m glad you’re happy. You get a blind vigilante boyfriend with communication issues and sensory issues and anger issues and…”

Foggy cut him off with another kiss. He felt Foggy’s tongue against the seam of his lips and Matt let him in without a thought. He felt like he was drunk, like he was absolutely out of his mind. He barely let himself think about Foggy in a romantic way because it hurt so badly and yet somehow here they were.

He let the hand that he wasn’t braced against trail up to tangle in Foggy’s hair, which was its own mini dream come true. The strands were as soft as Matt thought they’d be and he curled his fingers in to gently pull, just to see what Foggy’s reaction would be.

He got a low groan for his efforts and he couldn’t help but grin.

Foggy pulled away again and Matt tugged on his hair a little harder in protest. Foggy’s hand reached up to trance a finger over Matt’s swollen lips. He wasn’t sure he had ever wanted to see the expression on Foggy’s face more than he wanted to right then.

“Lucky me,” Foggy said gently, “I love you so much.”

Matt heard his heart beat truth. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all of the love you guys have shown this story!


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